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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29153337">In All Your Cracked Perfection</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnoliafilms/pseuds/magnoliafilms'>magnoliafilms</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Affection, Alternate Universe - Historical, Established Relationship, M/M, Mentions of Death, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Returning Home, Soldier!Jeno, artist!renjun, renjun makes bread</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:34:47</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,932</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29153337</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnoliafilms/pseuds/magnoliafilms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When they finally pass through the first stone gateway to the kingdom, Jeno lets himself remember all the things he’d missed while away. </p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>91</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Love Dream 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>In All Your Cracked Perfection</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/leominoris/gifts">leominoris</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://wordsfortheyear.com/2014/11/29/mouthful-of-forevers-by-clementine-von-radics/">Mouthful of Forevers</a> which is an absolutely beautiful poem. This is actually my second interpretation of this poem, so I really hope I've done it justice. This kind of love is so enchanting, and I really don't think I'm completely finished with this poem. Regardless, I hope you like it! Thank you for your prompts.</p><p>I will just add a tiny mention of the fact that this fic does mention soldiers dying multiple times. I tagged mentions of death because I don't explicitly write about the deaths themselves, but there are themes of loss and mourning in the first part.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Jeno’s limbs ache. It’s always the last part of the journey home that hurts the most, but he supposes he’s lucky to make it home at all. His horse is restless beneath him, the smell of smoke and decay had been getting to her lately, and he could tell that she was as relieved to be heading home as he was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patrol had been nightmarish. His troop had been sent out on the fortnightly check of all the outermost borders. They’d been expecting bears, or wild animals. They weren’t expecting an entire patrol of rogue soldiers sent to eliminate the entire party.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d lost too many, the number of them nearly cut in half in the battle. Now though, as they trudge home, morale is low. Their previously lifted spirits are gone. And even Donghyuck who always manages to bring a smile to everyone’s face is silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they finally pass through the first stone gateway to the kingdom, Jeno lets himself remember all the things he’d missed while away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sweet smell of the bakery down the road. The dusty sun-streaked setting skies that lit up the streets of their village. His favourite pair of boots. The sweet relief of a warm bath. And of sleeping in his own bed rather than a rather solid floor roll. A freshly cooked meal by the fireplace instead of the dried fruit and meat they’d been feeding on ravenously in the passing days. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lets himself remember a pair of small dainty hands. The kind made for needlework, for painting, for art. Too soft to wield a sword. And Jeno knows that Renjun is certainly capable, but as long as he lived, he’d make sure he didn’t have to. Those same lovely hands and how they tucked his long hair behind his ears, tied it up in the nicest silks. A pretty mouth that whispered soft promises under the comforting blanket of darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dull thudding of hooves on dirt becomes sharper as they move onto the main road. The clicking of hooves against cobblestones. Usually, they would be met with a victorious cry, greeted as heroes, as soldiers. But this time, it was evident that everyone could see how they had failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeno’s heart lurches as he sees a woman standing with the faintest glimmer of hope in her eyes. Searching. Searching all of their mud splattered faces. The devastated moan that tears from her throat as she sinks to her knees resonates with them all. And Jeno can only imagine if it were Renjun. Coming to watch the returning patrol. Waiting. Waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They move forwards, a few of them splitting off down side roads to make their way back to their families. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeno dismounts Seol easily and runs a comforting hand along her neck as she pulls against her reins. He can tell that she’s missed their home as much as he did. Their commanding officer bids him farewell as he turns down a narrower street. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun wouldn’t wait outside. Jeno had long since told him not to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The path home was winding, and difficult to maneuver at times. But being a little out of the way meant more privacy. Meant less invasive questions regarding his and Renjun’s relationship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since they left, Jeno let himself grieve. Let himself mourn the brothers he’d lost. It’s the hot tears on his cheeks that warn him that he’s crying. And Seol whinies softly as he swipes dirty fingers over the salty tracks, only further smearing grime across his skin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tethers Seol up in the small paddock outside, brushing her coat down and making sure she has enough food and water. Then he makes his way up to the front door. He knocks, because they still haven't gotten around to having a second key made. And then he waits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not for long though, as the door is practically torn from its hinges as the person on the other side throws themselves into his arms. Renjun smells like fresh bread and cinnamon, and Jeno nearly cries again because he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>home</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun doesn’t properly look at him for a long time. They just stay like that in the doorway, tightly held in each other's arms. Renjun fiddles with the hem of Jeno’s shirt, and when the wind blusters through, he just holds Jeno closer, uses him as a shield. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a while though, Jeno insists that they move inside, and Renjun goes easily, holding tightly onto him the whole way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He takes Jeno’s face into his hands, holding him close and surveying him. Jeno had seen him do this before. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Jeno not to lie about any residual injuries, he just liked having that confirmation for himself. To know that Jeno was ok.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were only a few scrapes this time. Minor scratches and bumps that Renjun would still insist on treating later. When he’s done though, he pulls back, and just looks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know…” He murmurs, and Jeno can’t tell if it’s a trick of the light or if he’s actually tearing up, “At work, at the bakery… I heard them all talking in the village. Talking about the attack. They all said such horrible things, and I—” He chokes on what might have been a sob, and Jeno instinctively puts out a hand, “I nearly believed it. I almost thought you were </span>
  <em>
    <span>gone,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Jeno.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Jeno doesn’t hesitate in closing the gap between them, instead wrapping his arms around Renjun and bringing him in close once more. He presses his lips to the crown of his head, and it’s quiet when he whispers, “I promised you. I promised you that I would always come home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun shakes again with another sob. “I know.” He says, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I know</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And I wanted so badly to believe you. But everyday I’d go down there, and they’d all lament everyone we lost and I—” He breaks off and Jeno rubs gentle circles into his back. Humming a song they danced to once when they were younger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He rocks them back and forth and for a second he feels like they’re back in a time where they could simply be. A ball where they could disappear into a corner to dance together and go unnoticed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun takes a few deep breaths from where he’s buried his head in Jeno’s shoulder, and Jeno laughs quietly at each exhale. At the sensation of Renjun’s hot breath on his neck. Renjun pulls away, eyes red and watering, but he’s smiling now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God, you’re filthy. I’ll draw you a bath, hm?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That would be brilliant, my love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels good to strip away the dirt of the past few days. To clean out the grit that’s been caked under his nails, scrape away the dried blood belonging to someone else. It feels therapeutic, almost like he’s rinsing the pain away, or at least covering it in some kind of balm. By the time he’s finished getting rid of all the muck, the bathwater is absolutely revolting, and Renjun turns his nose up when he sees it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Disgusting.” He extends his hands, meaning for Jeno to take them. “Get out and I’ll draw you another. You can’t properly wash yourself in all this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so Jeno complies, because it’s been too long since he’s seen Renjun like this. Too long since he’s let himself remember this kind of love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s why he locks it away when he travels. Because he knows all too well that the agony of being away from it all would be too much. The unrelenting heartache would simply rip him to shred from the inside out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun takes charge of washing his hair. Jeno closes his eyes when Renjun’s fingers drag against his scalp, massaging soap and oil into the roots. He resists the urge to snatch at one of his hands, to temporarily halt his ministrations simply so that Jeno could hold it for a moment, but he knows Renjun would only tease him for it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He instead hums in appreciation, sinks back into Renjun’s hands, lets his body drop further into the bathtub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They don’t say </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve missed you</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Because that’s a give in. It’s an ache that needs filling. Something that always goes unsaid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When finished, Renjun wraps him up in soft towels and brings him into the kitchen. He takes out the first aid kit and focuses on treating the cuts and scratches. Dabbing ointment here and there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment of quiet after he’s treated the last of them, before Renjun scoops up both Jeno’s hands in his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve got lovely hands,” Renjun says, kissing at each knuckle. Each callous. Each scar.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jeno leans over and kisses him on the mouth, it’s brief, and their noses bump against each other on the way. But Jeno doesn’t care. Renjun’s smiling when he pulls away. Jeno’s hands are rough, they’re soldiers' hands and though physically they aren’t much bigger, it still amuses him that they almost seem to swamp Renjun’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun pulls the bread he’d been making out of the oven, and while he finds some cheese and leftover soup, Jeno takes his battered uniform and washes it in the laundry sink. He hangs it out on the line and hopes that it doesn’t rain overnight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tugs on his casual attire, already feeling yards more comfortable than he had in the past week. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Renjun drags their seats together so that they can sit at the same side of the table and sets the fresh bread in front of them. The soup he spoons into bowls and sets on the tables as well, and Jeno just about kisses him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,'' he says instead. Taking his seat beside Renjun and melting into his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They eat in relative silence, only broken by Jeno’s groans of appreciation at how good a home-cooked meal is after the week he’s had. When they clean up afterwards, they don’t speak about Jeno’s time away. Instead, Renjun tells him about a new painting he’s started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s trying watercolours these days. And he promises Jeno that he can see the piece when it’s finished. Renjun washes the dishes, and Jeno dries. And Jeno can only imagine how lonely Renjun’s been while he was away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They migrate into their shared room, the sheets clean and neatly folded. Beneath the covers, they tangle in each other, pressing kisses against exposed skin. Jeno uttering that same promise. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I will always, </span>
  </em>
  <span>always, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come home.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And Renjun believes him. Takes his lips between his teeth and gives him everything he has. And when he pulls away, breathless and eyes glittering, Jeno says, “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Because he knows it to be more true than anything he’s ever known. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because this sweet tangible thing between them has, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>will</span>
  </em>
  <span> last them years to come. And Jeno swears on his life that he will keep coming home so long as Renjun is still breathing. Still painting and baking and living. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Because if not, then what would the point be. Jeno knows that he is not the first Renjun has ever loved. Renjun knows as much of Jeno. But they choose each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so beneath covers in a world of their own, they fall asleep with matching breaths. Hands twined between them, always tugging each other closer. A quiet, subconscious fear, that neither will let themselves voice. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>“I will love you when you are a still day.</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>
      <span>I will love you when you are a hurricane.”</span>
    </em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <span>— </span>
    <b>Clementine von Radics</b>
    <span>, “</span>
    <em>
      <span>Mouthful of Forevers”</span>
    </em>
  </p>
</blockquote>
  </div></div>
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